MM - Chapter 168 - I ACCEPT

There were only three primary locations within the Commoner’s District that would remain prominent hubs for players regardless of how many years passed. The first was Market Street, lined with shops selling the multitudinous items and gear Travelers and Vaaterrans alike required for their adventures. The second was the Commoner’s Administration Offices, a necessary waypoint for nearly every endeavor that interacted with the governmental policies of the Celendine Dynasty.

The last was the auction house, for obvious reasons. There were several additional vital locations throughout the city, but they were in other districts. As with any place that drew people en masse, the nearby real estate would swell in value right along with the foot traffic. Even a paltry lemonade stand would sell out in minutes if set up at one of those three major hubs.

For this reason alone, Raine could barely keep his giddiness in check as he left the auction house and walked less than two minutes to arrive at the tall stone walls surrounding his soon-to-be guild hall. There was no gate blocking the entrance, just two mercenaries flexing their killing intent to keep the curious rabble from setting foot on his property.

Raine approached, easily weaving through the other Travelers. Their numbers were growing by the hour, and soon, even walking down the street in this part of the city would be a pain. By then, the first of his projects would be complete. He could practically envision the coins being sucked out of their inventories as they walked by.

Nearing the entrance, the expansive, interior yard came into view. It wasn’t as large as those in the Noble’s District, but it had the space for ten support structures alongside the main hall. Two buildings were under construction. Both had foundations and were in the framing phase. Raine would have once considered the guild hall huge: three floors, weighing in at nearly two thousand square meters. It would barely suffice as a hub for the hundred thousand players he envisioned operating out of it daily.

Directly behind his plot, only two blocks away, was the arena. It loomed high, a domineering backdrop that lent perspective, and a welling sense of validation. This was real, and happening right in front of him. Raine breathed it all in, savoring the sweet scent of freshly cut wood, the pounding of hammers, and the gentle background roar of thousands of voices speaking at once. This was the very ground that would see his guild turned from the tiny group of rabble it currently was to a powerhouse that would shake the foundations of the Silvergate Kingdom.

Raine’s lips tightened, suppressing the bubbling emotions welling in his chest. The primary structure wasn't even half complete, yet it was glorious, and entirely his. No contract allowed another to swoop in and take it from him, other than the queen. So long as he paid the necessary taxes and Astra undertook its mandatory military operations, they would be left to their own devices.

The thought brought Raine's attention to the second building. The two-story warehouse was squat and unremarkable, appearing as nothing more than an essential addition to the main complex that dwarfed it in every way. Tucked behind the guild hall, the warehouse would be all but forgotten by the time completed walls blocked its view: exactly as intended. For the simple structure would contain a secret that, if brought to light, would see the government coming down on him like the wrath of a furious god.

Many curious onlookers stopped to look while wondering what was being built. Some were brave enough to approach the posted mercenaries with inquiries, only to be doused with killing intent that sent them scrambling. Looking like everyone else, Raine got the same treatment as he pushed closer. Bloodlust met bloodlust, clashing in the open air, invisible to all.

The guards went on full alert, drawing weapons with warning snarls. Raine met their threatening glares with a calm smile. 

[Mercenary Captain (Elite Noble): Level 70 (HP: ????/????)]

Externally, Raine's hands were raised in a placating gesture of surrender. His bloodlust told an entirely different story. Together, the captains nearly matched the raid hierarchs, forcing his mental might on the defensive. Like lifting a weight after too long away from the gym, Raine luxuriated in the strain. He continued to slowly and steadily approach until standing right before them, sharp poleaxe blades less than a meter from his neck. “I’ll forgive you, since Rimdoll hired you on my behalf.” A small card appeared in Raine’s hand.

Reading the flowery script on the noble’s identification card had the mercenary’s snapping to attention, butts of their weapons slamming into the dirt. “Apologies, Sir!” They crowed in unison, aggression instantly stowed.

The card vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Nonsense. You were doing your jobs, and doing them well.” Raine didn’t miss a young man wearing palace livery running away at full speed. The kid had been idly leaning against the wall not far away. For him to leave in such a hurry could only mean one thing: someone wanted to talk with the guild leader of Astra Infernum and didn’t have any normal means to contact him.

Interesting. Well, I’ve got time.

“Are you… going in, Sir?” One of the guards questioned uncertainly while glancing behind Raine. Several curious watchers were using his appearance and subsequent distracting of the guards to get a closer look.

Raine snorted, “And grind their production to a halt? Not interested. Don’t let me interrupt your work, either, gentlemen. I’m not paying you to stand at attention.”

“Right. Thank you, Sir. Back off you damn vagrants!” Killing intent exploded outward, smoothly swarming around Raine to wash over the crowd.

Terrified shouts filled the air, and mixed in were the expected questions, shouted in outrage.

“How come he gets to see but not us?!”

“Who is that guy? Is he someone important?”

Amongst those passing was a group of level 20 Travelers who weren't so easily cowed. At their level, they could be considered the peak of independent players; it was no surprise that a dose of killing intent failed to scare them off. Not missing a step, the man in their center shouted to Raine. “Hey! You must know what that building is. Are they going to sell ice cream there?”

“Damnit, Mick! Would you cut it out with the ice cream?”

“Huh? Why would I? It's hot out here. An ice cream shop would make a killing!”

Raine chuckled at the interplay as the group trotted toward their next leveling adventure. Mick was right. While Raine had no plans to sell ice cream, he would certainly be selling products that would turn this little plot of land into just as big of an attraction as the auction house next door.

Content to wait, Raine leaned against the wall near the entrance to watch Rimdoll’s Restoration hard at work, building the first piece of his empire one board at a time. The workers demonstrated how effective attributes could be in construction efforts by effortlessly hefting massive beams of lumber, zipping around at blurring speeds, and driving forearm-sized nails into tough wood with their bare palms. There were even a few Gromglenn engineers in the mix, directing the flow of materials and labor with their peculiar, shrill screeches.

It didn’t take long for the mystery of who was looking for Raine to be revealed. The duo appeared in grand fashion, teleporting into an empty spot along the wall. They drew every eye, along with a good many gasps. In contrast to their glaring entrance, both wore dark cloaks complete with deep hoods that shadowed their features. Raine recognized them straight away.

Figures it would be them. Looks like forerunner quests aren’t so easily evaded.

One was tall, the muscled build and perfected movements of a dangerous warrior impossible to hide behind a thin layer of fabric. As with the last time they met, the man's information was hidden, much as Raine’s was.

[???: Level ?? (HP ????/????)]

The other arrival was short, the curves of a young woman unmistakable. Previously, her information displayed the ruse of a level 50 guard. This time, she was all question marks, just like her guard. Had she truly been level 50, her raw attributes would have made her subtly faster than Raine; yet, the impression from back then was that she was weaker. Items that could not only hide but also give entirely false readings to identification were exceedingly rare and would never be found on someone unimportant.

Raine nodded toward the wide-open gateway, curious as to what a duo from the palace could possibly need from a level 30 Traveler. “Let’s talk inside.”

The woman's guard stiffened at Raine’s unimpressed tone, though made no move to ruin their inadequate disguises. Raine could only imagine how infuriated the stuffy man would have become if he demanded they speak out in the open. The girl practically skipped after him, steps light and agile without a hint of displeasure. Inside and out of sight behind the wall, Raine lifted a brow, waiting.

The girl spoke first, interrupting the guardsman, whose mouth was no doubt opening to reprimand Raine. “We meet again, Favored One. Apologies for last time, Master Lyale should not have attempted to seize you so rudely. Though, truly, we only sought to peacefully converse.”

Raine remembered well. On the way out of Silverlight for the Ruptured Chaparral, he’d met a young guardswoman and her poorly-disguised noble companion, who apparently was the Master Lyale in question. At the mention of his name, or some other slight, Lyale stiffened further, mouth snapping shut. Through the shadows, Raine could see his nostrils flaring in outrage. 

Raine also remembered the much-higher-level guardsman moving so quickly as to be impossible to track. He was clearly slowing himself for the sake of those around him. Raine knew well that it was best not to push Master Lyale’s temper, or he would likely find out exactly how powerful the man was.

Bowing politely as due a high noble, Raine spoke with utmost deference, “Then, I must apologize as well. I was under an extraneously tight deadline and could not afford even a few moments. That is no longer the case. I would be happy to hear your request.”

In hindsight, the particular bow Raine used was a mistake. Through it, he showed knowledge of their status, which they were clearly, if poorly, attempting to hide. Master Lyale’s eyes flew wide, his voice laced with disdain. “You knew who we were and chose to flee from my command? Lawless curr! I’ll have your head!”

The girl grabbed her companion's arm in an attempt to keep him from drawing the sword at his hip. Simultaneously, Raine was quick to defend himself. “All I know is that you’re from the palace. Whether you have the legal right to make demands of me or not is yet to be seen.”

It was true, Raine didn’t know precisely who either figure was. Which was odd, since he was relatively familiar with the important figures from the palace, and especially the ones who could dole out orders considered an executable offense to disregard. Master Lyale was not a name on that long list. Try as he might, Raine couldn’t remember it from the past at all. There was one plausible explanation: the man died before Raine made it to Silverlight, and very likely, his charge shared the same fate.

Forerunner quests were never meant to be easy, and their failure often has dire consequences, sometimes on a national scale. Was their death the first step that led to the fall of Silvergate? Or am I overthinking it?

When the mysterious young woman failed to stop her noble guardsman from unsheathing his weapon, the girl’s voice changed, snapping with unmistakable command, “Master Lyale! I order you to stand down this instant!” As though invisible chains wrapped around him, Lyale froze, unable to move despite his muscles straining to do so. “You will be silent!” She hissed, and Raine finally realized who he was talking to.

Eyes widening, he fell to a knee, bowing low. “Your Highness. My apologies for not recognizing you.”

The youngest princess of the Celendine Dynasty was quick to grasp Raine’s shoulders. She strained to haul him back to his feet while glancing over her shoulders. “Please rise, Master Alaric. This is not the place for such displays.”

Says the one who just used the Voice of Command!

Raine complied instantly, annoyed he’d forgotten about the fourth princess who did indeed die before he arrived in Silverlight last time. Less than a week after he made it to the city, there had been a city-wide funeral in which they shut down all the streets, parading her coffin for all to see and mourn. At the time, he’d barely cared. ZionLine was still new to him, its ‘lore’ unimportant compared to levels, gear, and gold. It wasn’t until years later that he started thinking of it as a real world, brimming with people just as real as himself.

Seeing the construction workers pausing to point in their direction, the princess sighed. “Perhaps coming here was a mistake.” Her voice turned saccharine sweet as she leaned toward Raine conspiratorially, “Master Alaric, would you be willing to accompany us to a more… private venue? I insist you take this as a request and not an order. I also personally guarantee your protection. You will not be harmed.” The last was directed at Lyale. Still unable to move, the man’s only response was the clenching of his jaw.

Raine was no fool. Her attempts to ingratiate herself were painfully obvious, and undoubtedly spelled trouble.

If it's for the fourth princess, this definitely isn’t some random forerunner quest. Failure means her death, and the loss of multiple powerful figures that the kingdom will sorely need in the future. Last time, when the Silvergate Kingdom fell, the most prominent guilds were wiped out to a man. Only traitors, and those both unimportant and quick to bend the knee survived. Astra Infernum is already making a name for itself as an elite group. We won’t be allowed to survive if the kingdom falls again.

If I don’t go, she’ll find someone else. I can’t leave such an important matter up to a random person. Besides, with danger comes opportunity.

Raine bowed again, though he stopped at a less conspicuous angle, “Your Highness, I accept.”